


Bucky's book

by BromeliadLucy



Series: Bucky's Book [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BromeliadLucy/pseuds/BromeliadLucy
Summary: Just had an idle thought about what it'd be like if someone else kept a book of memories like Bucky's.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written first, then I started writing the character's backstory. The backstory isn't finished yet but either/both parts can be read as standalone if you feel like it!
> 
> Apologies that this chapter is in second person, and the backstory is in third person. That's due to the out-of-order writing, and me not being able to face going through this and editing it ;)

After Hydra, it was so hard to find the good in the world, so hard to remember that there was good in the world. Until they took you in. Hydra had taken so much from you, your memories, your freedom, your identity, and you knew that nobody really believed you could get any of it back.

You’d healed, physically, but mentally you were still that scared, scarred animal they’d found locked up. You’d been used, abused, beaten, forced to use your powers in ways that terrified and horrified, and you found it very hard to trust, to believe that this strange group of people could really want to help.

It took time, but you started to open up. They treated your injuries, without wanting anything in return; they gave you a name, a home, friendship, but you always held back. You tried not to let them see when it all got too much, you’d shut yourself away in your room, curl up, try to hide in your own head.

It was Bucky who found you like that one day. JARVIS had probably alerted him, worried at your unnatural stillness. You didn’t cry, you couldn’t. It probably would have helped but you were so afraid that once you started, you might never stop.

“Hey, doll?” He was knocking on your door, talking quietly but you could hear. “Can I come in?” You stood, unlocked the door and saw his eyes widen in shock. You knew you couldn’t put on the usual façade, that your misery was there for all to see. You shuffled back in, threw yourself down on the bed and closed your eyes. You felt the mattress dip as he sat down beside you. He’d been there himself, knew that physical contact was both something you craved and something you feared, so he’d never initiate it, but his nearness was enough for now.

“They’ve taken it all Bucky, I don’t know anything except horror, there’s nothing except just hate in here.” You banged your hand against your head, teeth gritted, wanting to hurt, to block out the thoughts. You felt him shuffle down until he was lying beside you.

“I know, doll, I know. That feeling when all the good has been wiped out, there’s just a hole there. But there’s good, I promise. I’ll help you remember.” He paused for a second and you kept your eyes screwed shut, refusing to let the tears spill out.

“Remember last week, we watched a movie? Well, we watched four in the end. You hadn’t seen any of them, guess Hydra’s cinema was out of action.” You felt him give a little smile, let yourself relax a little. “Disney, that’s what we went for, remember. No sex, no violence, all the cute. Never seen someone get so into Aladdin, or not since Steve saw it anyway. You and him, like a pair of kids. Disney, Disney’s a good thing, a thing you like.” 

You nodded, imperceptibly, remembering the glee you’d felt at watching these happy films where the bad guys lost and good won the day. You’d probably seen them before, but after Hydra, there was no way of knowing, so it was a first for you, and you’d watched all day. That was a good day.

“Remember when you got out of the hospital? You’d only been wearing those damn gowns for months, then you’d borrowed Tony’s sweats, remember, which were about ten times too big, and after a week he said you had to get something new. Barton helped you buy stuff online, no point asking me and Steve how that stuff works, and he asked you what colour you liked. Remember what you said?”

“Blue,” you answered quietly. You did remember. It was the first time in as long as you could remember – literally – that you’d been allowed an opinion; that you hadn’t been punished for expressing a thought, not just following orders. The blue of the sky when you finally came out from underground, the blue of the sea as the jet had flown you away from Hydra. The blue of Bucky’s eyes.

“Blue. That’s a good thing right. That’s why we got this room redecorated for ya.”

You opened your eyes now. The walls were sky blue, the sun making the room feel as if you were outside even on the darkest day.

“We’ll think of more every day, ‘k? Remind you of all the good things you like, fill up that hole.” He tapped gently on your head, making a knocking noise, bringing out the smallest chuckle. You’d never thought you’d laugh again, and yet here it was.

“This too,” you said, reaching out one finger and touching his metal arm, and instantly drawing back, embarrassed.

“My arm?” You could hear the surprise in his voice, knew how much he hated the physical reminder of what he’d been through.

“This arm, was strong enough to break open the lock on my cell door.” You reached out again, feeling bold, ran your finger down his arm, feeling it jump across each metal plate. “This arm broke the chain on my neck. And this arm picked me up and got me out of there. So yeah, I like this arm.” You looked up into his eyes and frowned at the sight of a tear running down his face. He reached out and stroked your face gently with his left hand.

“This arm’d do it again every day, doll.”

You both lay quietly after that, your mood lifted, his mind clearing as always when he was with you. He fell asleep after a while but you couldn’t rest. You got up, left the room and made your way down to the admin levels of the Tower. It was all dark, but you found what you were looking for. A notebook, empty, waiting to be filled. 

Your writing wasn’t the best. Hydra hadn’t exactly bothered much with education, but you sat and started.

‘Things I like. Disney. Blue. Bucky’s arm’  
\--  
You kept it up. Whenever you had a flash of a new memory returning, or something made you smile, it would go in your book. The pages grew wrinkled with the amount of writing, the book no longer shutting smoothly, and that in itself made you smile, as the pages filled up.

‘Decorating a Christmas tree. Snowballs. I like Clint’s terrible jokes.’

‘I remember when my tooth fell out, and the tooth fairy left me a coin. Mom had to explain that the fairy had let her keep the tooth when I found it in her drawer.’

‘I like it when Sam makes Bucky mad. It’s funny when they argue about stupid stuff.’

‘I remember baking with Dad. I think we made gingerbread?’

‘I liked making gingerbread for the team. Bucky helped, he got flour on his face, and it made me smile.’

‘I like making Bucky smile, when he winks at me when no one’s looking.’

‘I like Bucky’s eyes, they make me feel safe.’

\--  
Nobody asked to see the book, and that meant a lot to you. Steve had asked, one dinner time, what you were writing, and when you said it was a book of good memories, they’d all smiled, said it was good to know, that they liked to see you writing in it. But they allowed you that privacy, and that was something that meant a lot to you. You trusted them now. They were your friends.  
But then one day, the book was filled. You’d read it back sometimes, seeing the progress as memories came back, and as new ones were created. You loved the feel of the paper, the crackle of the pages, the sight of your handwriting improving. Proof of your progress, right there, in black and white.

You knocked on Bucky’s door that evening, clutching the book tight, walking in when he called out. He was lying on the couch, feet up, reading, but he sat up when you came in and gave you that smile. That smile featured a lot in the book.

“Hey doll, wanna sit and read, I’ll make coffee?” His presence was so easy, so relaxing, it was all you needed.

“I’ve got something for you to read actually,” you held the book out and he took it, looking at you with surprise.

“Doll, you don’t have to share this, you know that, you don’t owe us,” he tried to give the book back, but you pushed it back towards him.

“I want you to, Buck. I want you to see how I’ve changed. How you’ve helped. How I… Just read it will you?”

He nodded, and opened the book, his hand stroking the pages smooth as he read. Some of the lines were so familiar to you now, you’d read them so often. The first three: Disney, blue, Bucky’s arm, had become almost a mantra, something you’d hold to yourself when things were difficult. 

“Hey, I remember this, this conversation, Disney, the colour blue, my arm!” He looked up at you with a grin. “That’s in here, that stuff we talked about?”

“It’s all in there Bucky, all the good things you’ve helped me remember.” He shuffled over on the sofa, pulling you in close, his left hand absent-mindedly stroking your arm as he continued to read. You shut your eyes, let your head rest on his shoulder, lulled by the whispering sound of pages turning.

You knew the last page. You’d written it only that morning, and come straight here before your nerve failed. You didn’t know what he’d say though, how he’d react. You forced your eyes to stay closed, refused to look and see how close he was to the end. You heard another page turn, and his hand on your arm stilled. You felt his muscles move, as he turned to look at you, and then you opened your eyes, unsure what you’d see.

He was smiling. That smile he’d have read about, the way his eyes made you feel that he’d have seen. He leant in towards you, slowly and gently pressed a kiss on your lips.

“I love you too.”

The book slowly slid off his lap as he kissed you again. That was OK, you didn’t need it any more.


End file.
